


Nessie Tumblr Short Prompts

by alexenglish



Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Exes, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Infidelity, M/M, Neighbors, Panty Kink, Sex Worker Niall, Size Difference, Size Kink, bottom Niall Breslin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: Short prompt fills from bressieniall on Tumblr





	1. The Ex Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “don’t leave me, you’re too warm.”

The line’s ringing before Niall thinks twice about it. It doesn’t even register until Bressie answers with a curious, “’ullo?”, and Niall has to look at the screen of his phone to figure out what’s going on.

Bressie’s contact picture is staring back at him – the one Niall took while they were in bed nearly six months ago, Bressie all sleep-soft around his eyes, cuddled up in Niall’s blanket – the one Niall desperately needs to _change_.

Anyway… Right, he called Bressie. ‘Course he did.

“Niall?” Bressie asks, when Niall doesn’t say anything right away.

“Hi, hey, Bressie,” Niall says, wincing at the way his voice gets all polite. That superficial voice he uses when he’s dealing with his boss. This is off to a great start, isn’t it. 

“You rang?” Bressie prompts. Niall’s cheeks get warm. Right.

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have,” Niall says, honestly, fingertips pressing into the kitchen counter top. There’s some food stuck to it that he absently scratches at with his fingernail… Oh, gross. “But I didn’t know who else to call, y’know?”

“What is it?” Bressie asks, voice going sharp, worried. Niall winces again. 

“Not anything bad,” he says hurriedly. Actually, if he had taken five seconds to think about it, he could have called the landlord. “My garbage disposal’s backed up… I should have called maintenance, soz.”

Bressie sighs, sounding relieved. Niall doesn’t want think about what that means.

“You know they take forever,” Bressie says. Over the line, Niall hears him moving about. “I’ll pop in and take a look.”

“You don’t have to,” Niall says, quickly, feeling jittery. “It’s across town, I –”

“Comin’ to see Eoghan anyway,” Bressie says. It sounds like he’s laughing. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Right, ‘course,” Niall says, trailing off as the call ends. He places his phone on the counter and starts at the dark screen, frowning. 

“Who was it?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen in only his pants. He looks in the sink where it’s half full of murky water, bits of old food floating in it. 

“Bressie,” Niall says, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “He’s gunna come look.”

Harry stares at him flatly.

“I can’t fix it meself,” Niall says, gesturing to the sink. They both wrinkle their noses at it. “If you want to get elbow deep in our old lunches, then be my guest.”

“You know I don’t,” Harry says, disdainfully. 

“Exactly,” Niall says, like that settles it. It doesn’t, not really, but it makes Harry leave him be, wandering to the living room while Niall nervously makes tea and tidies up the kitchen and double checks that he knows where the tools are, in case Bressie needs them.

By the time Bressie gets there, Niall’s jittery enough that actually seeing him isn’t any kind of shock. It’s actually a relief when Niall opens the door and Bressie smiles at him, normal and everything.

It’s been four months since they broke up – two since they last slept with each other – but Niall still expects some sort of production when they see each other. It’s never dramatic with them two – even when it should be.

“Hey chief,” Bressie says, easy as anything, like they haven’t been avoiding each other for 7 weeks, give or take. “Heard you have a sink issue.”

 

 

The thing’s as big as his fuckin’ palm, and he really doesn’t want to deal with it. If he tries to get it in a cup and dump it outside, there’s a chance it’ll come back in.

If he squishes it, he has to _squish it_. Niall’s toes curl unhappily, trying to think of any other option.

Bressie is over at Eoghan’s. At least, that’s what twitter says. Niall stares at the big arse spider in his shower for at least 15 seconds before he decides to make the call.

It’s not that he _couldn’t_ kill it. It’s just a bit bigger than he’s normally comfortable with. There’s a giant, spider killing man next door on Eoghan’s couch, so he might as well take advantage of that fact.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eoghan asks, when he picks up the phone and Niall mentions the spider. “You know I can’t fucking stand spiders. Why don’t you get Harry to chase it out.”

“He’ll want to keep it alive. Then it’ll come back in,” Niall says. That’s the truth, at least. “I just want to know if you have bug spray.”

It’s a lie. The whole conversation is a careful ploy to see Bressie. By calling Eoghan, Niall’s making sure Bressie knows he’s having a Crisis without… directly letting Bressie know he’s having a Crisis.

It’s less suspicious. He could have not been on Twitter at all this afternoon. They don’t know that he knows that Bressie is there.

“I don’t think I do,” Eoghan says, making a thoughtful noise. In the background, Niall hears Bressie talk. Niall bites his lip, waiting. He hears Eoghan talking, quieter, like he’s got the receiver pulled away from his mouth. “– No, there’s a spider. Big arse one – yeah, figures. Shut up –”

“Bressie’ll be right there,” Eoghan says, louder now, definitely talking to Niall.

“Oh, Bressie’s there?” Niall asks, trying to sound unaffected. He’s pretty sure he manages alright.

“Like you didn’t know,” Eoghan says, barking out a laugh right before hanging up on Niall. Niall makes a disgruntled noise, looking at the dark screen of his phone. Fine, then. 

There’s a knock at Niall’s door the next second, so Niall drops his phone on the counter and opens the door for Bressie. He’s got his grim, spider killing face on. It was always a thing. Before.

“Where at, little?” he asks, smiling at Niall a bit as Niall steps to the side and lets him in. He’s dressed nicer than last time, a snug sweater that makes his arms and chest look ridiculous. Niall wants to smooth his hands over the wings of his shoulders, down to his waist. 

“Bathroom,” Niall mutters, flushing and keeping his hands to himself. 

“Want it dead?” Bressie asks

“’Course,” Niall snorts. When has he ever wanted to spare a spider’s life? Never.

“Always do,” Bressie says, with a teasing smile, tugging up his sleeves so his forearms are bare. There’s a new swirl of dark ink right on top of his wrist that’s new. It shocks Niall’s system, reminds him how separate they are, now.

He stays in the kitchen while Bressie handles the spider.

 

 

“Why did you break up, then?” Harry asks, as he holds tree pose in the middle of the living room. Normally he’d be doing it out back on their pathetic excuse for a patio, but it’s pissing rain out and Harry has a weak immune system.

Niall looks up from his phone, wishes he could ask Harry what he was talking about and mean it.

“Long version or short version?” Niall asks, with a sigh. Harry shrugs. Short version it is. “Got too busy. Couldn’t make time for each other. Couldn’t get it sorted. Figured it’d be better if we didn’t…”

“Keep trying?” Harry prompts, watching Niall over his folded hands. 

“Took some space,” Niall says, arching his eyebrows. 

“So you broke up?” Harry asks. His voice is free of judgement, totally light, but Niall knows the look on his face. “That’s dumb.”

Niall barks out a laugh, scrubbing his hand over his face. “It really is.”

 

 

It probably wasn’t fair for Niall to text Bressie like that. They might not be together, but the _we need to talk_ text isn’t ever a good text to get. Hopefully the: _come over x_ , softened the blow.

Bressie doesn’t text him back, but Niall got the read receipt, so he saw it. He’s just not answering. He’s probably busy. Or working. Even though he’s usually off right now… He could be running errands. Something. It’s fine.

Niall’s good and wound up by the time the door goes, a soft _shave and a haircut_ knock that has Niall grinning despite himself. He finishes the rhythm on the back of the door, two quick knocks, before tugging it open.

Bressie’s stood on the other side absolutely drenched.

“Shit, you’re all wet,” Niall yelps, tugging Bressie into the flat. His jacket’s sopping, dripping onto the floor. “Hold on –”

Niall darts to the linen closet and grabs two towels, tossing one at Bressie’s head and making him stand on the other.

“Wait,” Niall says, taking back the towel so he can wrestle Bressie out of his jacket. He throws it at the empty (fixed) sink so it’s not getting his floor wet anymore. He stretches up on his tip toes and starts toweling off Bressie’s hair. 

Bressie’s hands come up and close around Niall’s wrists, clammy and cold.

“Jee- _sus_ , Bres, your fingers.” Without thinking, Niall drops the towel and grabs them, rubbing them between his palms, trying to warm them up. Bressie’s holding very still, watching Niall. Niall flushes, pulling away. “Shit, I –”

“Don’t leave me,” Bressie says, giving Niall a sideways, teasing sort of smile. “You’re too warm.”

Niall rolls his eyes and obliges for a couple more seconds, absolutely not thinking about how big Bressie’s hands are between his, how thick his knuckles feel as Niall rubs over them.

“Better, you big baby?” he asks, putting some space between them. Bressie looks delighted that Niall played along.

“A bit,” he says, picking up the towel to dry his hair again.

Niall chuckles nervously, chewing his lip as he watches Bressie. His shirt’s soaked through. Fuck. _Fine_.

“Need, uh, a shirt?”

“I don’t think I’ll fit in anything you or Harry’ll have,” Bressie says, chuckling. His hair’s a bit more dry, fluffed up like down. 

“It’s fine,” Niall says, already walking back to his room. He may have stolen three shirts off Bressie when they broke up. His favorites. Old and soft to the touch. Niall picks his least favorite of the three. It’s still his third favorite shirt, but it’s for a good cause.

Niall hands it to Bressie, ignoring the way his face is warm. It’s a total giveaway.

“This is mine,” Bressie says, squinting at him. 

“Is it?” Niall says, lightly, crossing his arms, shrugging. 

Instead of pursuing that line of conversation, Bressie strips out of his shirt, throwing it at the sink. It lands with a wet _plop_. Niall can’t physically make himself look away from the dark hair on Bressie’s chest, the shift of his muscles as he pulls the other shirt on… Niall’s shirt.

They stand there staring at each other for a moment.

“Why do you still have my shirt?” Bressie asks, quietly, looking sober for the first time since he got in the flat. “Why did you ask me to come over.”

Niall takes a deep breath. He’s been practicing this speech in the mirror all day. It doesn’t make him any less nervous, but he needs to cut to the chase. He can’t do long, drawn out, emotional conversations. It’s always uncomfortable.

“Do you think it was stupid?” he asks, sounding more sure than he feels. Maybe the practicing did help. 

“What?” Bressie asks. 

“Breaking up,” Niall says, with a shrug. “Like, you come here and I’m still, like, I dunno. I was just… talking to Harry about it. He said it was dumb that we broke up because we were, like, too busy or summat.”

“Too busy,” Bressie clicks his tongue, looking at the ground. “Didn’t make time for each other.”

“That too,” Niall says, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling inside of Bressie’s face. The anxiety of having to talk about his feelings is making him feel light headed. A weird sort of adrenaline. 

“It was probably stupid,” Bressie finally says. Niall’s head snaps down so quickly his vision swims. 

“You think?” Niall asks, heart pounding. The look on Bressie’s face is soft, sincere. It doesn’t feel like there’s any air in Niall’s lungs. 

“It definitely was,” Bressie agrees. “Almost as stupid as you texting Eoghan to get me to come over and kill that spider. The one you could have handled yourself just fine.”

“I – you don’t know that,” Niall says, but he’s smiling, caught out. Bressie comes closer, boots squeaking on Niall’s nice, clean floor. Niall doesn’t have it in him to tell Bressie off for it. 

“Didn’t need me to kill spiders before,” Bressie says, cupping Niall’s face lightly, thumb rubbing along his cheek. “Did that yourself.”

“It’s been awhile,” Niall says, chin tilting stubbornly. “Things could have changed.”

“Could’ve,” Bressie agrees. He comes closer, caging Niall against the kitchen counter with his arms. Niall lifts up on his toes, expectantly. Bressie grins, nudging his nose against Niall’s cheek – the tease. “Or you could’ve just wanted to see me.”

“Could’ve,” Niall says, with a laugh, turning his head so his lips catch against Bressie’s for a barely-there kiss. “That was definitely it.”

“Knew it,” Bressie says, smiling wide right before he leans down and kisses Niall properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/156750083512/clarz-dont-leave-me-youre-too-warm-the)


	2. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “so, slow and loving, or hard and punishing?”

The first time it happens, Niall’s half pissed and giddy with excitement, stomach rolling with nerves. He’s sure Bressie’s feeling the same, hand clutching at Niall’s bony hip, warm and damp through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. 

Niall’s brain spares a moment to vaguely hope Bressie doesn’t have a panic attack over this, but Niall doesn’t think he _really would_ , so he’s… not thinking about that, absolutely not. 

Instead, he’s thinking about how solid Bressie feels against his back as they wait for the car. He’s positively radiating heat, and Niall’s insides are quivering in anticipation as Bressie’s hand moves from his hip to his low back, like that’s more of a casual touch, or something. 

The first time Bressie kisses him, they’re barely inside Niall’s flat. It’s exactly how Niall always thought it might be – hot, hard, all consuming. Strangely like he’s taking a breath of fresh air, even as he completely forgets how to work his lungs at all. 

All he can think is finally. _Finally_. 

Finally, he gets this – kissing Bressie, licking into Bressie’s mouth to chase the taste of him, dizzy with it. Finally, he’s got his hands under Bressie’s shirt, feeling Bressie’s muscles jump under his fingers. Finally, he’s free to dig his nails into Bressie’s hips, pull him closer, press their bodies together. 

His calves start to ache, being up on his toes to make up for the height difference. His arms start going numb from being wrapped around Bressie’s neck so tightly, clinging like he’s never going to get this again. 

Niall wonders if Bressie feels it, too – the urgency of the situation. Like if everything doesn’t happen right this very instant, it won’t ever happen. 

Maybe he’s catastrophizing, a bit. Definitely catastrophizing.

Bressie seems to have had enough of being bent over to get at Niall’s mouth – his arm tightens around Niall’s waist and he straightens, pulling Niall off his feel. Niall yelps and hops up, wrapping his legs around Bressie’s hips. 

Bressie grins, well pleased with himself. 

“What’s the face for?” Niall asks, trying to catch his breath. He’s been on Bressie’s back before, hung off him like a koala, but this is new – hard dick pushing against Bressie’s abs, Bressie’s massive hands palming his arse. 

“Just enjoying you,” Bressie says, kissing Niall again. It’s chaste instead of heated and that, more than anything else, makes Niall’s stomach go hot and knotted up with need. 

“Christ,” Niall says, pulling Bressie in by the back of the neck to kiss him. Deeper this time. He doesn’t know if he could handle another slow kiss like that. 

Bressie starts walking them towards the main part of the house. Niall hopes he’s headed towards the bedroom, but he’s taking his goddamn time about it.

“How are we doing this, then?” Bressie asks, once he’s dumped Niall on the _kitchen counter_  of all things and tugged off his shirt. Bressie runs the tips of his fingers down Niall’s chest, presses his thumbs into the dip of Niall’s belly.

“Doing what?” Niall asks, hissing and biting his bottom lip, arching at the small of his back like he can get Bressie to touch him more deliberately that way. 

Bressie’s watching him with dark eyes, and Niall’s used to having Bressie’s attention – he works damn hard to keep Bressie’s attention – but he’s not used to it feeling like _this_. Like he’s the center of Bressie’s universe, or like Bressie’s universe is so small, Niall’s the only person occupying it. 

Christ.

“So, slow and loving, or hard and punishing?” Bressie asks, after a moment. His touch gentles, curious, fingers dragging along Niall’s spine, up to the top and back down while Niall stares at him. 

It’s a straight forward question, but Niall takes it straight to the chest, heart squeezing tightly around the honesty of it. Loving, or punishing? Kind of the same thing, aren’t they. 

Niall lets himself smile, touching Bressie’s jaw, watching as his eyelids flutter like he can’t help himself. Maybe he can’t.

“You’re not ‘hard and punishing’ nothing on me kitchen counter,” Niall say, instead of blurting out exactly how _cosmic_ he’s feeling in the moment. “Take me to the bedroom. Then we can do it _all_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/156705617532/nessiegirl-so-slow-and-loving-or-hard-and)


	3. A Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any [pants].“

If Niall’s ever gets a tattoo, it’s going to be on his wrist and it’s going to say, “don’t ever listen to Louis Tomlinson. Ever.”

Two ‘ever’s, for emphasis. 

Listening to Louis gets him in so much shit everyday, all the time. The problem is that he’s never been immune, either. Somehow, Zayn dodges all of Louis’ bad ideas by virtue of being the number one best friend in a group of best friends. Liam gets the tame pranks, a habit left over from when Louis was still trying to win him over. Harry used to be in the same boat, but Louis got too out of hand and completely drove Harry away from participating whatsoever.

So, now it’s just Niall. 

Louis flatters him, and calls Niall his ‘partner in crime’ when he wants Niall to do something especially stupid – even though Louis knows that Niall knows that Zayn’s Louis’ _true_  partner in crime – no hard feelings, of course.

But Niall’s always up for a laugh, especially when Louis gets a _good_  idea, because he does like having this one thing with Louis. In a group of people who’ve grown up together and are massively similar in a lot of strange ways, it’s nice to be able to give Louis this. 

This time _this_ is a dare that Niall very nearly chickens out of. He’s never called chicken before – chickening out is degrading. The consequences too horrible to even think about. Chickening out would be a blow to Niall’s ego, and it’s not a fragile thing, but that would be truly shattering. 

“It’s a pair of pants,” Louis says, very seriously, eyes wide like they get when he’s trying to talk Niall into something dumb. Which he is, right at this moment. “One pair.”

“It’s laundry day,” Niall says slowly. He doesn’t want Louis to think he’s saying no, but he also doesn’t want Louis to think he’s saying _yes_ , either. “Which means the only pair of pants I have are the ones on me arse.”

“So?” Louis asks, looking unimpressed. He’s staring down the end of his cigarette, frowning. “Look, if you don’t want to –”

“I’m not saying that,” Niall says, quickly. He’s not backing down from such a simple prank… task… whatever. That’s absurd. “I was just letting you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Louis says, smirking and making a big show of looking Niall up and down. Niall laughs to cover how he flushes, and knocks Louis upside the head. 

“Alright, so 402′s pants for mine,” Niall says, leaning forward so he can look past the fire escape and up two floors. There’s a couple articles of clothing over the rail of the fire escape, including a pair of pants. 

That Louis wants Niall to swap for his own. 

It’ll be easy. Totally easy. 

“’M taking me pants off before I climb up there, though,” Niall says, spinning so he can climb through the window to their own living room. Louis flicks his butt to the street below and climbs after him. 

“Sure thing,” Louis says, with a shrug. 

Niall turns towards his bedroom, ready to get out of his trousers and get this over with. He’s only gotten two steps before he hears Louis say, “oh and Niall? …I dare you to leave your number in your pants.”

Niall whirls around, eyes narrowing. “Fuck you, Tommo.”

“Chicken?” Louis asks, glaring. Niall tilts his chin up stubbornly, and doesn’t even bother replying. Louis’ giggle follows him all the way to his room. 

See, the thing is… Niall’s got this thing for 402. It’s not, like, weird or anything, but it’s definitely a thing. Niall’s seen 402 enough in passing to know he’s a good looking bloke. Tall as hell, taller than any person has a right to be. And fit as hell. Big all over – big biceps, big hands, big thighs. 

A big smile when people say hello. 

Not that Niall’s ever said hello. He’s never managed to spit out the words. 

They’ve passed each other, of course. Niall’s seen him in the basement doing laundry. Seen him in the lift. But 402 is older and… probably straight, so Niall’s never bothered anything more than a friendly smile. 

But now. 

Now Louis’ dared Niall to not only steal 402′s pants and _swap_  them for Niall’s, but dared Niall to leave his number as well. 

Honestly, he’s going to do this, then he’s going to get that goddamn tattoo. Louis is a menace. 

Niall shoves off his trousers and gets his pants off. They’re that weird body-warm temperature, but they’re clean, for the most part. He had a shower this morning and he’s been lying about in the flat the rest of the time. 

The nearest notepad is one with rabbits printed on it that the twins got him for Easter, but it’ll have to do. Niall writes his number in green pen, drawing a clover. For luck. 

Once he’s got his pants and the number balled up in his fist, he goes out to the living room again. Louis’ curled up against Zayn’s side on the couch watching the telly. He smiles wickedly when he sees Niall. 

“Good for it, Nialler!” he yells, throwing his arms up in victory. Niall flips him off, and climbs out the window. 

“If I get the cops called on me, I’m blaming you,” Niall says, as he drops onto the fire escape. 

“Be my guest,” Louis says dismissively. 

“Good luck!” Zayn calls. Niall’s got his hands on the fire escape ladder when he hears. “What’s he doing?”

“Stealing the pants from his one, true love,” Louis says. Niall rolls his eyes even though Louis can’t see him and climbs up a floor. 

Luckily, the flat above them is completely empty, so he doesn’t bother being stealthy until he’s on the ladder directly under 402′s. Then, he creeps slowly, stepping lightly so he doesn’t make any loud noises. 

There’s no way to tell if 402 is home, not unless he pressed his face right up to the glass, but Niall tries listening for noises anyway. There’s nothing except the noise of traffic at street level. Which isn’t at all helpful. 

Below him, Louis climbs out of the window of their flat and lights a smoke, smirking up at him. Great, an audience. Niall flips him off and keeps going. 

By pure chance, the pair of pants is closest to the stairs, so Niall can just snatch them up. He barely refrains from making a victory noise as he sets his own pants in their place, number folded up inside. 

He doesn’t wait around, he’s quiet the first few feet, but once he’s cleared the first ladder, he practically runs down to their window. Louis is laughing at him, eyes bright and wild. 

“You did it!” he says, dragging Niall in close and nuzzling into his hair. “Left your feckin’ number, mad cunt.”

“Shut it,” Niall grumbles, but he’s pleased, heart going wild. He’s still got 402′s pants clenched in his hand. Christ. He climbs through the window and tosses them at Zayn’s head. 

“This is either the worst dare Louis has ever made you do, or the best.” Zayn looks contemplative. 

“How would it be the _best_?” Niall asks, snorting, trying to shake off the giddiness. 

“Well, now you have to talk to Bressie,” Zayn says, shrugging. He chucks the pants at Niall’s head. Niall catches them, dazed. “Finally.”

“Is that 402?” Louis asks, before Niall can. Zayn nods.

“Yeah, he dated the TA for that shite English class I took last semester,” Zayn says, face screwing up in that disgusted way it always does when he mentions that class. “Whatshisface… I can’t remember his name.”

“A bloke?” Niall asks, faintly, dropping the pants on the counter. Not straight, then. Alright.

“Get it in, Nialler!” Louis says, fist pumping. 

“This is all your fault,” Niall moans. He could definitely play it off as a crap prank with a straight dude. Ha ha, uni stuff, his mate is a twat, all that. But… well. 

“It is,” Louis says, downright gleeful. 

Niall’s head is spinning so much, he nearly misses the knock on the door, but both Louis and Zayn freeze, heads whipping around. 

“Oh my god,” Niall whispers, stepping away from the counter, like putting physical distance between himself and the pants will make a difference. “Oh my god.”

“Answer it,” Louis hisses. He doesn’t look as terrified as he should. He looks _chuffed._

“You answer it,” Niall says quietly. 

“You’re closer.”

“This is _your fault_  –”

The knock comes again, and Niall can’t bring himself to be rude. He flips Louis and Zayn off before making his way through the kitchen to the door. When he looks through the peephole, sure enough, there’s 402 – Bressie. 

“Hello,” Niall says, opening the door, trying to appear innocent. 

Up close, Bressie’s even more massive. All barrel-chested and tall and gorgeous, even though he’s frowning. He’s got Niall’s pants in his hand. 

“I think you left these on my fire escape.”

“I don’t… think I did,” Niall lies, almost wincing because it’s _so_ obviously a lie. Bressie arches an eyebrow at him. Niall pretends it doesn’t affect him as much as it does.

“Right, so you’re… definitely wearing pants right now?” Bressie asks, eyes sweeping down Niall’s body.

Niall flushes, then scowls to cover it up. “Are _you_?”

“No,” Bressie says, with a shrug. Niall’s whole stomach flips over. Behind him, he can hear Louis absolutely losing his shit laughing. “Laundry day.”

“Okay,” Niall says, still not knowing if he should come clean. It’s not like he has anything to lose at this point, but he still feels like he should fight it since he got caught out so quickly. It doesn’t feel like a proper prank at this point, just… juvenile. 

More juvenile than normal. 

“I was going to say, if these were your pants,” Bressie continues, like Niall isn’t making this awkward. He pulls the piece of note paper from the wadded up fabric. “And this was your number. I’d be happy to accept a coffee date as an apology for my pants being stolen.”

“What if it’s not my number?” Niall asks, trying to think over the white noise in his brain. A coffee… date… 

“Shame,” Bressie shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll have to find the fit bloke that was just snooping about on my fire escape and leave you to it.”

“Well, then,” Niall says, clearing his throat. His face is absolutely flaming hot. “I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any pants.” 

“Thank god,” Bressie says, grinning properly. Niall forgets how to breathe. They stare at each other for a beat before Bressie says, “Can I have me pants back? I really don’t have any.”

There’s another burst of loud laughter from the living, both Louis and Zayn this time. Niall loses his shit right along with them, and even Bressie’s laughing, sweet and slightly self conscious. 

Maybe they should have a laundry date, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/156708083337/nessiegirl-sameoldbloganddance-i-think)


	4. But, Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set when Bressie was in London, January 2017

It always seems like they’re the last ones at the end of the night. Just him and Bressie and the dying embers of the bonfire, smell of smoke still lingering in the air. Bressie looks comfy in his pullover, half slumped in his chair, thighs spread wide.

If Niall was still buzzing, he’d plop right into Bressie’s lap for this conversation, but it’s long enough past midnight that he’s nearly sober, feeling the cold far too acutely. So he slides into the chair next to Bressie instead, angling at him. Too far away to touch properly. 

Inside, Deo’s snoring on the couch. Niall’s pretty sure 1-3 of the girls crashed on his own bed instead of in one of the guest rooms. The lights are all on, the kitchen and the halls and the upstairs bathroom, for some reason. 

Bressie’s nursing the same beer he’s had for ages, eyes somewhere off in the distance. Niall feels like they’ve been dancing around something all weekend, but he’s not sure what. Keeps catching Bressie just lookin’ at him. Sometimes he’s got this look on his face, like Niall’s a puzzle he needs to solve. 

It’s been weird, not knowing where Bressie’s mind is at. It’s not tension, not bad, but it’s something, Niall knows it is. He’s been waiting for Bressie to say something, but all Bressie’s done is stare, so Niall figures he has to initiate the conversation.

“What’re you thinking about, head?” Niall asks, kicking his foot out to nudge Bressie’s. Bressie’s attention snaps to him, lazy smile curling on his mouth. His eyes are heavy lidded like they get when he’s still got alcohol in him, cheeks pink. 

Maybe it’s not fair to have this conversation now, but Niall’s been in his head about it too much. If Bressie appreciates anything, it’s a necessary conversation. 

“Nothin’,” Bressie says, all thick around his accent. Niall presses his smile into his shoulder. His own accent’s gotten thick hanging out with the LIC. He loves it, finding Ireland in the other places he calls home. A reminder of Bressie until it smooths out again, not gone, but not as bold and brash – all the good things Bressie brings out in him. 

“Not nothin’,” Niall argues. “You’ve been spaced out all weekend.“

“Haven’t!” Bressie protests, looking offended. Niall laughs. 

“C’mon,” Niall says, leaning forward. Bressie mirrors him unconsciously, watching him with intent. “Just lay it on me.”

Bressie snorts. An honest-to-God condescending type of snort, too. Niall throws a bottle cap at him. 

“C’mon, ya cunt,” Niall tease, scooting closer. His arse is half hanging off the chair, but Bressie’s grinning at how earnest he is, so it counts as a win. “Don’t make me force it out of you.”

“How would you _even_?” Bressie demands, laughing outright. 

Niall makes a mocking sound and clambers into Bressie’s lap, legs spread over his thighs and – okay, Niall’s been in Bressie’s lap, but stacked like… not straddling him. Bressie’s legs are so thick, Niall feels the stretch in his hamstrings. 

Niall swallows, trying to redirect his thoughts away from Bressie’s _lap_. That he’s currently sat in. 

Bressie’s froze, head tilted up to look at him, eyes wide and confused. And Niall always forgets how fidgety Bressie gets when he’s cornered. It’s almost cute.

“Alright, well now I just won’t get up until you tell me,” Niall says, with conviction. It’s lost in the way his hands flutter at his sides, unsure where to put them. Touching Bressie seems… intimate, at the moment. 

He lets them fall at his sides. 

“I can lift you,” Bressie says, sounding unimpressed. “I can pick your tiny arse up, and –”

“Tiny arse?!” Niall demands, throwing his head back and laughing. “Chicken legs, tiny arse. Don’t got much going for me, do I?”

He’s joking, of course he’s joking, but Bressie stills, face going serious. 

“You got plenty going for you, chief.”

“Christ, Bres, your _face_ ,” Niall laughs, taking Bressie’s face in his hands, like to emphasize the point – it’s supposed to be a casual thing, nothing with weight or meaning or – they both freeze, watching each other. Niall can feel the air hiccup in his lungs from the surprise. 

The look on Bressie’s face is…

Niall has no idea what it _means_. It’s just… soft. Soft. Soft and stupidly fond, and it feels like a sucker punch to Niall’s chest. 

He doesn’t know _why_  –

“Bres?” Niall asks, voice barely breaking a whisper. 

Bressie blinks quickly, and there it goes – he’s back to Bressie. Not looking at Niall like… that, anymore.

“Fuck,” Bressie swears, low and rough. He clears his throat and runs one hand over his face before pasting on a smile that’s not totally convincing. Niall’s so stunned by the shift in mood, he doesn’t bother protesting when Bressie pushes at his legs and insists he moves, just climbs off dazedly and watches Bressie stand. 

He grabs his beer up and walks towards the edge of Niall’s porch, back to Niall. Niall follows, unsure, coming up next to him.

They stand in silence for a bit. Whatever it is, Niall can practically hear Bressie chewing it over, so he waits. There’s no explanation for the way his heart’s pounding way in his chest as he stands there, but it won’t calm, like the anticipation is too much to regulate.

“I keep thinkin’ about Christmas mass,” Bressie says, after a few minutes of listening to each other breathe. He’s picking at the label on his bottle, nails scratching at the sticker. “Seeing you again.”

“You see me plenty,” Niall says, frowning. 

“It’s different,” Bressie shrugs, going quiet again, eyes on his bottle. 

Niall hates this shit. It feels _awkward_. This whole thing feels like pulling teeth, like they’re teetering on the edge of something, tiptoeing over eggshells, and Niall hates it, it’s not _them_.

“How?” Niall asks, letting some annoyance creep into his tone. Bressie sighs and looks at the sky, eyes falling shut for a breath before he drops his head and angles towards Niall, looking at him properly. 

“You’re all grown up, chief,” he says, with a shrug. “Not that little blonde lad I taught how to play guitar, are ye?”

“Christ, you’re getting all soppy,” Niall says, laughing. Bressie’s being nostalgic, of course he is. “Get too many beers in ye, I swear. I’m still Niall, Bres.” 

Bressie shakes his head, laughing. “’Course you are.”

“So me being a proper adult? That’s what’s got you contemplative?” If it was anyone except Bressie, Niall’d be taking the piss out of them, but Bressie has these moments – great introspection and whatnot. Niall likes it. When it’s not directed at him.

“Hear me out, yeah?” Bressie says, draining his beer. He sets it at his feet, wrapper all tore up. “I feel like I’ve known you since you were a boy –”

“Not this, Bressie,” Niall says, voice prickling, stomach going sour with things he’s told himself to forget. His heart’s picked up pace in his chest again, and Niall thinks about the first time Bressie said that. Back when he was 21 and trying to get Bressie to kiss him. 

_I feel like I’ve known you since you were a boy. Wouldn’t feel right. You understand, don’t ye? We’re okay, aren’t we, chief?_

Bressie _hadn’t_  known him that long, not before X-Factor, at least, when he was _actually_  a boy. But he was still just a kid to Bressie. A kid to be mates with, hang out with. Nothing else.

It wasn’t even that long ago, either. Niall hasn’t done anything since then. Been flirty, sure, but he’s kept his hands to himself. They don’t talk about it. So why’s Bressie even thinking about it? 

“Where’s this coming from?” Niall asks, shoulders hunching defensively. He takes a step back, puts some distance between them. A hurt look passes over Bressie’s face for a moment, and Niall doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I told you,” Bressie laughs thickly. “Been lookin’ at you more.”

“Lookin’ at me?” Niall asks, stomach tangling up. The palms of his hands have gone all tingly with adrenaline, clammy. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do,” Bressie says, sighing. He reaches his hand out, fingers curling once, beckoning. Niall looks at him, trying to read his face. His entire chest feels like a black hole, there’s so much pressure behind his ribs. 

He takes Bressie’s hand. 

Bressie tugs him in close, pressing their fronts together, hands clasped; his free hand ends up around Niall’s waist, pulling him in even more. Niall rocks forward on his toes, head tilting back. That _look_  is back. The stupidly fond one. 

Niall might be trembling, now.

“I was always lookin’ at you,” Bressie says, voice soft, just for them. “But before you weren’t – weren’t gunna stick around were you? Had too much to do, too many people to meet.”

“I’m still not gunna be around,” Niall reminds him, because he’s contrary. Because he’s upset that two years ago he got a ‘sorry, mate’ and now Bressie’s got him in his arms like this.

“It’s different,” Bressie says, before he sighs. He loosens his grip, putting space between them. Still wrapped up in each other, but not as tightly. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see.”

“What are you seeing?” Apparently Niall’s a masochist tonight.

“My Niall, all grown up.” Bressie’s smiling now, sweetly. “The kind of bloke I take to movies and concerts, and try to be romantic with.”

“Bres –”

“The kind of bloke I text every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed.” Bressie’s hand comes up, thumb pressing to Niall’s pulse point. Niall wonders if he can feel how it’s racing. “The kind of bloke I make chicken for, with seasonings, of course –”

“Don’t even _mention_  chicken, you arse,” Niall says, face hot. 

“The kind of bloke I want to stay for breakfast after I have him in my bed all night,” Bressie says, wicked grin on his lips. 

“Oh, what an honor,” Niall says, shooting for sarcastic and missing it by a mile. His voice is shaking now, too. All of him so keyed up, he’s about to fall apart. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bressie asks, big hand stroking through Niall’s hair, and Niall doesn’t bother with words. He surges forward and kisses Bressie so hard they sway on their feet. 

Bressie’s mouth is lush and yielding and warm, lighting up all of Niall’s nerves. Kissing Bressie’s everything he thought it would be, and nothing he thought it would be. It’s everything. _More_. 

They hold onto each other tightly and kiss and kiss and kiss. His head’s swimming when they finally stop, lips buzzing. He hears Bressie hum low in his throat, sounding satisfied. 

“What do you think?” he asks, practically a whisper. “Do I have it wrong, then?”

“I don’t think so,” Niall says, pressing his forehead into Bressie’s chest, feeling overwhelmed and not knowing what to do with himself. “I’d stay. 

I always would have stayed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/155890535072/but-stay)


	5. Thigh Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with d/s dynamics & pain kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because [this](http://i.imgur.com/VJTppLB.png) photo exists

They should probably stop this, getting off out by Bressie’s pool where any of his curious neighbors could see if they dared peek over the fence. But, Bressie loves this – Niall squirming on his lap, hands scrambling at his shoulders, whines breaking loose from his throat because he just can’t help himself. 

That’s how they got here, innit? Because Niall just can’t help himself. Couldn’t keep himself from climbing on the lounge with Bressie and kissing him hotly, rubbing himself on Bressie’s leg until Bressie told him to straddle a thigh properly and get himself hard.

If they were going to do this, might as well do it right.

“You’re doin’ good, pet,” Bressie says, voice low and deep, palming Niall hips as he ruts against Bressie’s thigh. Must be nearly painful, that. Grinding up on Bressie’s leg, both of them still in shorts, Niall’s dick rubbing up on layers and layers of fabric. 

Bressie likes it rough, he does. He likes Niall’s fingers twisted in his hair, Niall’s nails tearing up his back. He likes when Niall bites hard enough to bruise, grabs Bressie’s wrist tight enough to hurt. But Niall likes it a bit differently than Bressie does – needs this, almost. 

And Bressie gets that, which is why Bressie’s here – t’ take Niall out of his head, take him apart completely, make him feel good. Praise him when he gets it right.

“Gettin’ so hard for me,” Bressie says, tightening his grip so Niall whines. There’ll be finger-shaped bruises all over him tomorrow, and Niall will press into them, going hazy and happy with it. “Just from this, grinding on me thigh. Haven’t even touched you, have I?”

Niall moans, throat jumping. He’s got his head tilted back, thick column of his neck exposed. All the mouth prints and fingerprints Bressie left there from last night when Niall asked Bressie to tie him up and fuck him right. Something Bressie was happy to oblige. 

“Can you come like this?” Bressie asks, but it’s rhetorical, they both know he can – and will. “Nut off in your little shorts without me touching your pretty cock.”

Niall looks at him finally, tucking his chin down, lashes fluttering. His gaze is hazy, properly under, and Bressie’s chest hurts – the look on Niall’s face, the sweet smile, how much he trusts Bressie to carry him through. 

“Answer me, pet,” Bressie prompts, trailing his hands up Niall’s sides. Niall won’t talk unless Bressie tells him to, can’t think enough to string words together. It’s just whines and whimpers and moaning and Bressie’s name until Bressie asks.

“However you like,” Niall says, with a gasp like he’s coming up for air. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, cheeks flushed so deeply with pink he’s radiant. “I’ll come however.”

“Alright, come like this then,” Bressie says, gently, pushing his hands up Niall’s shirt to twist a nipple sharply. Niall groans, mouth dropping open softly. “Let me see you come.”

If Niall’s good at anything, it’s listening to Bressie, and he does – lifts himself up on his knees and comes back down, harder than before, hips moving in tight little circles. 

The fabric of Bressie’s shirt is bunched and stretched across his shoulders from the way Niall’s got it fisted in his hands, gripping tight for leverage. It seems to work, lets Niall move more deliberately, hot and hard against Bressie’s leg. 

Bressie stops pinching at him, doesn’t want to give Niall anything else to work with. He keeps touching Niall, knowing Niall needs it, but he keeps his hands over Niall’s shirt, resting lightly on his waist.

“You look fuckin’ beautiful,” Bressie tells, because he just can’t help himself. “Look so pretty ridin’ me leg, just like when you’re bouncing on me cock.”

Niall whimpers, grinds harder.

“Got me so fucked watchin’ you,” Bressie continues, low and hushed. Niall’s still looking at him, blue eyes so dark, pleading look on his face. “So hard for you.”

Niall’s hands twitch like he wants to reach down, but he doesn’t – knows the rules, knows not to touch until he gets off first, until he comes like this.

“Want you to come, baby, want t’ see you mess your shorts,” Bressie says, and Niall’s eyes screw shut, whining. “C’mon, babe.”

And Niall does, shudders hard when he comes, hips jerking, bowing in on himself. “ _Bressie_ ,” he moans, pressing his forehead to Bressie’s shoulder, panting. 

“That was perfect, baby boy, perfect,” Bressie rumbles, breathing hard like he’s the one who came, running his hands over Niall’s back.

Niall’s still rutting against Bressie’s thigh, little whimpers coming from his throat, as he surges up and kisses Bressie – bites him more like, pulling Bressie towards him. 

And Bressie lets him, loves this part, when Niall kisses him like he’s drowning, hands curling around Bressie’s neck, keeping him close. 

“Lemme, lemme,” Niall gasps, so eager Bressie’s chest goes tight. He pulls back and moves so that he’s between Bressie’s legs, shuffling down and looking Bressie expectantly. “Please, Bres.”

He’s a mess. Sweat at his hairline, cheeks deep red, mouth shiny with spit. The spunk in his pants is bound to be uncomfortable, but he’s just waiting, waiting for permission to make Bressie feel good, and _goddamn_ –

“Yeah, baby, go for it,” Bressie says, curling a hand in Niall’s hair as Niall eagerly tugs off Bressie’s shorts and pants, and swallows him down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog on tumblr](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/157537572147/in-honor-of-this-picture-thigh-riding-ds)


	6. Lace & Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sex worker Niall, panty kink, & bottom!Bressie

Bressie doesn’t say anything when he answers the door, just tugs Niall in and kisses him forcefully, big hand cupping the curve of Niall’s arse, pulling him up onto his toes. 

It’s a bruising kiss, not a quiet hello, but possessive and a little desperate. Heat licks its way up Niall’s spine as he leans into it, bites at Bressie’s bottom lip, clings to him. 

“You smell like beer,” Niall says, once Bressie lets go of him. He doesn’t go far, their fronts are still pressed together, but there’s some breathing room between them. Barely.

“Probably,” Bressie agrees, squeezing Niall close before letting him go. Friendly, familiar. The look on his face is soft and shy when he says, “Thanks for comin’.”

“Of course,” Niall says, smiling winningly at Bressie as he shifts back onto his heels. He doesn’t remind Bressie that he’s paying for this – tries not to, if he can help it. “You know me, always got time for you.”

It’s not entirely the truth. He should be revising right now. The week before exams is absolute hell and the plasma electrodynamics section is kicking his arse.

“That you do,” Bressie says, eyes trailing down Niall’s body slowly, like he just remembered to look. 

Niall was lounging around in joggers and a dingy vest when Bressie texted him about coming over, but he managed to find one of his nicer shirts and clean trousers. Bressie doesn’t really have expectations, not like some of the others, but Niall hopes it’s enough all the same. 

Bressie’s in a suit that probably cost more than Niall’s monthly rent, all put together from the Gala he attended. Some charity dinner that Bressie lamented about over text before inviting Niall to come see him.

Usually Niall doesn’t work weekdays, he’s got morning class and too much homework to do, but Bressie offered double Niall’s normal rate. It’d be stupid to say no to that. 

So here he is, stood in Bressie’s entryway, well paid Uber driver pulling away from the front of the house. 

“The door’s still open,” Niall says, stepping to the side so Bressie can get it. Bressie looks sheepish when he turns around, face all scrunched up adorably. 

“Got overexcited,” he says, grinning. The confession makes Niall’s belly swoop, flushing as Bressie takes his hand. “C’mon, then.”

“What, no tea?” Niall asks, even as he lets Bressie lead him down the hall and up the stairs, hands tangled together. They bypass the wide open living room and archways leading off to who knows where. Niall hasn’t been in the rest of the house, not really. 

He’s been in the kitchen for tea a couple of times, and once Bressie fucked Niall over the desk in his office, but other than that, he hasn’t seen more than passing glances. Usually, it’s straight to bed with them.    

For all Niall knows, Bressie could have a billiard room and an indoor pool and a secret sex dungeon. Though, he’s pretty sure Bressie would have taken Niall to his secret sex dungeon if there was one, he’s not shy about that kind of thing.

Maybe that’s why Niall likes him so much, Niall thinks – as Bressie shoots an amused look over his shoulder, not even dignifying Niall’s comment with a response – he’s always seems so honest. 

‘Course, that could all be for show. Wouldn’t be the first time someone played a part when they were with Niall. Not that he minds, he doesn’t give a shit one way or another about most. He’s playing his part too – whatever they want, whatever they’re paying for, that’s what they get. 

Sure, it’d be nice if Niall was getting authentic Bressie, but it doesn’t matter, does it? A job is a job is a job. He works so he can afford uni and his apartment and _food_.  ****It’s fucking stupid to have a preference, Harry reminds him of that at least once a week.

He’s too caught up in his head, he doesn’t realize they’ve gotten to Bressie’s room until it registers that he doesn’t recognize where he’s at. 

“Uhm,” Niall says, blinking. Usually – usually they fuck in one of Bressie’s guest rooms. Which isn’t actually strange, considering all the married and closeted and easily ashamed clients he works with, but – 

“Alright?” Bressie asks, shedding his suit jacket as he walks into his massive closet and switches on the light. Casual, like he’s not flipping the script on Niall. 

The closet light is bright enough to see the rest of the room by. The giant four poster bed right in the corner with the blankets all messed up, huge TV mounted on the wall with three game consoles lined up on the entertainment center, stack of books on the nightstand. Way more lived in than the rest of the house.

“Yeah,” Niall replies easily, watching through the doorway as Bressie unbuttons his shirt, eyes his hands like it doesn’t matter that Niall’s in the room. It’s always interesting to watch someone undress when it’s not a seduction tactic. 

Bressie’s fingers move over his buttons quickly and deliberately. His button up and shoes end up in a neat stack. It’s very… Bressie. Reminds Niall that he should wonder what they’re doing here in Bressie’s room – Bressie’s a creature of habit. Bressie’s always careful, like that folded pile of clothes.

Everything in its place. 

Bressie’s bedroom? Not exactly Niall’s place. 

When Bressie comes back out, he’s in his slacks and undershirt, finally looking at Niall. There’s a weird look on his face that Niall doesn’t want to think about, eyes darting around like he’s taking it all in.

It’s there and gone, quick enough for Niall to half believe he imagined it. Maybe it’s because it’s a Wednesday night – everything’s thrown off. It’s all weird. This wouldn’t happen on their usual Saturday. 

God, he’s thinking too much. 

“Hey,” Niall says, pitching his voice low, letting his smile go sharp and predatory. Bressie smirks back at him knowingly.

“Hey you,” Bressie says, softer than Niall expects. “Got a surprise for you.” 

There’s pink staining his cheeks, and Niall feels a little thrill of curiosity, wondering it could be that has Bressie shy like this.

“Hope it’s a good one,” Niall says cheekily, trying not to sound too eager. It’s a fine line to walk with Bressie – the carefully aloof attitude he keeps with most of his clients is… difficult to maintain. Especially when Bressie’s all sunshine and smiles and sweetness.

“Think you’ll like it,” Bressie says, drifting closer. Close enough to catch Niall’s hand and then his mouth. Gentler this time, easing Niall into it, free hand cradling the back of Niall’s head. 

It doesn’t last as long as Niall would like. Bressie walks him backwards to the bed and sits him down before pulling away. 

“Alright, be a tease,” Niall says, leaning back on his palms and spreading his legs, making sure Bressie knows he’s half hard from the kissing alone. 

Bressie’s gaze sweeps over him appreciatively before he gives that small self-conscious smile of his and tugs off his undershirt. Niall watches, greedy gaze on Bressie’s wide shoulders and pecs, his toned belly and the smooth cut of his waist.  

He’s definitely not expecting when Bressie pushed down his trousers and he’s… wearing knickers. 

Niall sits up fully, eyes wide. It’s a fucking sight – black lace cupping Bressie’s soft prick, hugging his thighs. The contrast between how delicate his hips look and the thick dark hair on his legs, stomach, and chest is making Niall’s head spin. 

“Shit,” Niall says, reaching forward to run his hand up Bressie’s thighs, fingers catching on the edge of the knickers. He blinks up at Bressie, mouth dry. 

“What do you think?” Bressie asks, grinning. Less self-conscious now, but still flushed. Maybe that’s excitement, though. 

“Jesus Christ, you look good,” Niall says truthfully. He palms his cock through his trousers absently before he wraps a hand around the back of Bressie’s thigh. “C’mere.”

Bressie shuffles closer until he’s between Niall’s legs, until Niall’s right up on his prick. Niall leans in and licks over Bressie’s cock through the lace. Above him, Bressie inhales sharply, hand going to Niall’s hair, tugging.

“Been wearing these all night?” Niall asks, palms planted on Bressie’s thighs to steady himself. He feels a little light headed, if he’s being honest. Bressie nods. Niall’s grin sharpens. “Hiding these under your trousers? Like a pretty little secret?”

Bressie nods again, mouth going slack when Niall dips his fingertips under the bottom edge of the knickers towards the middle, sweeping over Bressie’s inner thigh lightly, teasing.

“How’d you feel?” Niall asks curiously, voice low and wrecked just thinking about it. All those people watching Bressie – God’s gift to rugby, manliest of men – not knowing that he had lace cutting into the skin at his hips the whole night.

“Felt good,” Bressie says, smiling a bit at Niall.

“Just good?” Niall asks, but doesn’t care for the answer. He leans in to lick again, looking up at Bressie through his eyelashes. He keeps on like that, sweeps of his tongue over the knickers until his mouth’s numb from dragging against the lace and the wet fabric is clinging to Bressie’s hard cock.

He sucks on what he can – the head, the shaft – still watching Bressie. It’s thrilling, to see how wrecked he can get Bressie – chest heaving, teeth biting his lip until it’s swollen and red. He’s trying to stay quiet, cut off little moans and sighs.

“What were you gunna do if I didn’t come over?” Niall asks, fingers slipping under the edge of Bressie’s knickers, dragging over Bressie’s skin, pressing into Bressie’s thighs. “Wank off in bed?”

Bressie nods.

“Think of me?” Niall asks, hands sliding around to the back, tracing the swell of Bressie’s bum. 

Bressie nods. 

“Maybe get out a toy,” Niall says, voice dropping even lower. He looks up at Bressie and bites his lip as he traces two fingers over the cleft of Bressie’s arse, pressing against the lace. “Fuck yourself on it?“

“Yeah,” Bressie says, hips jolting forward. Niall grabs his arse tightly and grins up at him before licking at Bressie’s covered cock again, feeling it leap against his tongue.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks, once he pulls away, mouth numb. Bressie’s watching him nearly incredulous. It makes Niall feel invincible. 

“I’d like that,” Bressie says, pushing his hand through Niall’s hair. Niall has to resist the urge to nuzzle into his palm.

“Get on the bed, then,” Niall says, once it’s obvious that Bressie isn’t going to stop petting him anytime soon.

Bressie drops his hand and grins, stepping out of his trousers before climbing on the bed behind Niall. Niall gets up to dig lube and condoms out of Bressie’s nightstand, stripping once he finds everything. 

There’s enough light to see the way Bressie’s watching him patiently, palming at himself slowly through his knickers. Big hand cupping his big cock, legs spread for Niall. 

Niall doesn’t waste time once he’s naked, gets between Bressie’s legs quickly. “I love these,” he says, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Bressie’s pants. “I really don’t want to take them off.”

“Can’t fuck me with them on,” Bressie says, raising his eyebrows. Niall makes a noise of agreement. It sounds a bit distressed. 

“You look so fucking good,” Niall says, before tugging them off Bressie’s hips and tossing them off the bed. He slides his hands up Bressie’s thighs, watching his cock jump at the touch. “Always look so fucking good.”

“You just gunna stare at me prick all day, petal?” Bressie asks, sound beyond amused. 

“Probably,” Niall says, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out. Instead he gets up on his knees and leans over to kiss Bressie, slow and deep with a hint of desperation. 

His dick bumps the inside of Bressie’s thigh, and he can’t help but grind into it impatiently. He’s achingly hard, but he hasn’t even touched himself, barely noticed how turned on his is, he’s so distracted by Bressie.

Niall pulls away to get the lube and situate himself between Bressie’s legs. 

He watches the way Bressie’s eyes flutter shut at the first press of his finger after he slicks up. Watches the way Bressie’s head tips back and his Adam’s apple works around a moan as Niall fucks into him slowly, getting him loose before Niall adds another finger. Watches the way his hands grip the sheets, the way his hips shove down onto Niall’s fingers. 

“C’mon, love,” Bressie says, once Niall’s up to three and the insides of Bressie’s thighs are slick with lube. 

“Yeah,” Niall says, one big exhale. He slips out and grabs a condom, rips it open and puts it on with trembling hands. He always gets stupidly excited to fuck Bressie, like he can’t quite believe it.

Even as he’s knocking Bressie’s knees apart and Bressie’s tilting his hips up invitingly. Even as the head of his cock catches on Bressie’s rim. Even as he sinks in – so, so slowly – until his hipbones press against the back of Bressie’s legs –

He’s hot and tight around Niall’s cock. It feels so good that Niall can barely stand it, can barely keep himself from nutting off like a teenager. 

He always feels small like this. Bressie’s massive thighs hooked over his hips, hands planted on Bressie’s waist. Leaning up to kiss Bressie as Bressie curls over him, cups the back of his head, and bites at his mouth.

He pulls back to watch the way Bressie arches and squirms on Niall’s cock.. Watch the way Bressie can’t keep his eyes off Niall, gaze unreadable and overwhelming as Niall plants his knees and pounds into him.

“Fuck like that,” Bressie says, hips working against Niall’s, hand going to his cock to wank himself off as Niall keeps up his pace, thighs beginning to ache. "Shit,  _Niall_.”

He’s stupidly beautiful when he’s hot for it. Making so much noise, cursing and saying Niall’s name, mouth soft and slack and begging to be kissed. Cheeks and chest all sex-flushed, bright red, sweaty all over. 

It doesn’t take long for the bottom of Niall’s stomach to go tight and warm, and he really doesn’t want to come before Bressie, but –

“Fuck, Bres,” Niall says, tightening his grip on Bressie’s thighs. “I’m gunna come –”

“Yeah, fuck,” Bressie says, back arching into it. “Come inside me, Niall, c’mon –”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall groans, speeding up, enough to tip him over the edge, enough to make him come with a shout, trembling and shaking and trying to fuck Bressie through it as Bressie’s fist blurs over his cock – until he’s coming too, whole body going painfully tight around Niall’s sensitive prick. 

He waits until Bressie’s stopped shuddering to pull out and roll off Bressie.

“Can’t feel me legs,” Niall giggles, tying up the condom and throwing it… off the side of the bed. He looks over at Bressie, still all red and sweaty, still trying to catch his breath. 

“You ‘n me both, chief,” Bressie says, with a slow grin, meeting Niall’s eyes. They look at each other for a long moment, smiles ridiculous and fond, before Bressie’s face gets serious and Niall’s stomach drops. “Stay the night.”

“I don’t have an overnight rate,” Niall says, automatically, effectively killing whatever afterglow there might have been. He doesn’t stay the night. He never stays the night with clients.

Bressie knows that.

“Make one,” Bressie says. “Just… stay.”

An unpleasant feeling tightens around Niall’s spine. He should say no. Bressie knows better than to ask. It’s a weeknight. He has class early in the morning. He has homework. He has rules. 

He doesn’t change his rates, he always fucks with condoms, he never stays the night. They’re solid rules, they got him this far.

There’s plenty of reasons why Niall should say no. 

Instead, he keeps still as Bressie reaches out and cups his face, stupidly tender. He holds his breath as Bressie’s thumb traces his mouth with all the reverence of a lover, chest going tight and aching at the touch. 

“Stay,” Bressie says, one last time. 

There’s plenty of reasons why Niall needs to say no.

Instead, he says yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog!](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/158142456122/omg-im-so-sucked-into-the-nessie-ship-its-not)


	7. American Cop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bressie busts Niall's 18 birthday party. Sort of.

It’s a quarter to midnight when Bressie and Eoghan get the call. A noise complaint in the subdivision off Main, and Bressie knows _exactly_ what that means considering what day it is.

“Took ‘em long enough,” Eoghan laughs, flipping the cruiser around and heading back the way they came. They’ve been circling – wide circles, but definitely circles. They both figured the call was coming, and Bressie would be lying if he said he didn’t have a special interest in being the one to take it.

“Are we shutting them down, or telling them to keep quiet?” Eoghan asks, raising his eyebrows at Bressie. Bressie makes a face. 

“Why do I have to choose?” he asks, then shrugs. “Tell ‘em to turn it down. It’s the first noise complaint.”

“Aw, Big Face, you don’t wanna ruin –”

“Shut up,” Bressie growls, shoving at Eoghan’s shoulder. Eoghan laughs out loud, but shuts up, steering them to the address dispatch gave them. 

The whole thing’s lit up like the Fourth of July when they pull up and get out. If Bressie didn’t know better, he’d think it was a rush party or something, one of the ones he’s busted closer to the local college.

People are scattered all over the lawn, dancing and talking, red Solo cups in their hands – there’s red Solo cups all over the grass… and all over the porch, and all over the truck parked in the driveway. There’s already two people taking a nap under the bushes off to the side.

Music spills out the front door, some screeching EDM that Bressie can’t make heads or tails of because it’s so damn loud. The windows are vibrating from the way the bass is pounding through the whole house.

There’s multicolored strobes lighting up the inside, casting the thick crowd of people in a fractured rainbow of colors. As they get closer, Bressie’s able to make out the sound of splashing in the pool, laughter and boisterous yelling coming from the backyard.

“How the fuck did no one call this in sooner?” Eoghan asks. The people in the front yard take one look at their uniforms and dart inside. Bressie hopes they sounding the alarm, maybe the party will end of its own accord.

“It’s the Horans,” Bressie says, sighing. He wishes that statement needed an explanation, but it doesn’t – “Specifically, it’s Niall Horan.”

Eoghan smirks at him knowingly, but doesn’t comment as the get up the porch. The door’s open, but Bressie rings the doorbell anyway, hooking his thumbs into his duty belt as he waits. There’s a clear path from the front door to the back. Miraculously, no one is standing in their line of sight.

Miraculously.

The Tomlinson kid is the one to come sauntering out from wherever. If Bressie was going to guess, Louis’s trying his best to act sober.

“What can I do for you, officers?” Louis asks, managing to walk steady even though his eyes are bloodshot to hell. If Bressie took one step closer, he’d probably be able to smell the marijuana clinging to the bird’s nest Louis calls his hair.

Louis smiles politely, blinking slow and controlled.

“Can we speak to the owner of the house?” Bressie asks, keeping his voice as flat as he possibly can when all he wants to do is laugh out loud at how hard Louis’s trying.

“Bobby is, unfortunately, out,” Louis says breezily. “But if you leave a message, I’ll be happy to pass it along. This is about the noise, right?”

“Niall, then,” Eoghan says, staring Louis down. Louis blinks at him, hamster running the wheel. 

“Well, he’s not – aw, shit –”

There’s a ruckus down the hall. Bressie watches as a dripping wet Niall throws the sliding glass door open, red cup in his hand.

“Christ, Tommo, what the fuck is taking so – oh!” Niall spots them all standing there, eyes going comically wide. He chucks his cup off to the side, and Bressie’s already decided to pretend like he didn’t see it.

Niall shakes out his hair before he hops through the door and proceeds to drip all over the tile as he walks over. 

Inexplicably, he’s in his clothes – a white shirt that clings to his shoulders and his waist, sheer enough that Bressie can see the pink of Niall’s nipples and the dark of his happy trail as it disappears below the waistband of his cut off capris.

Bressie tries very hard to keep his heart from pounding. Niall’s… Niall’s an issue. He has been for a least a year, and Bressie can mostly ignore it because no matter what Eoghan, or Laura, or any of the other officers say, Bressie’s not a _creep_ –

But it’s impossible to ignore the alcohol flush to Niall’s skin, the way his cheeks and mouth are candy apple red. The way he’s _looking_ at Bressie. And Bressie knows exactly what that means – he’s had Niall in the back of his squad car enough times since Niall was a teenager to know what that stupidly endearing look on his face is.

It means he’s definitely going to try to come on to Bressie. Like he’s done since he was 16 and… figuring things out, Bressie guesses. It was around that age that Bressie caught him and the Malik kid making out on school property in the middle of the night.

“Can you, uh, not mention this to my dad?” Niall had asked, after Bressie dropped Malik off. His body language was completely relaxed, legs spread across the plastic back seat, petulant teenage slouch. It did nothing to disguise how his voice shook.

“I didn’t mention it when I busted you with those beers two months ago,” Bressie had muttered. He’d always had a soft spot for the kid, even before he started looking twice. “ _Or_ all those illegally obtained cans of spray paint last week.”

“Yeah,” Niall agreed, but that was it.

“Those were for Malik?” Bressie asked, trying to get Niall to loosen up. Niall looked at him in the rear view mirror and shrugged, shoulders pulling up around his ears. 

“It’s nothing,” he had said, sounding defensive, and Bressie hated that, hated thinking that Niall might feel alone in… whatever it was he was dealing with on the inside. 

“Doesn’t have to be nothing,” Bressie had said, as he turned down this very street to drop Niall off. “It’s okay, if it’s something. I went through the same thing. It’s easier if you can admit that it’s something.”

Niall’s head popped up so quickly, Bressie was worried he hurt himself. They stared at each other for a minute before Niall smiled softly and nodded.

“Yeah, they were for him,” Niall said. And that was enough.

Bressie got out and opened the door for him, weirdly proud of the moment they’d had.

Of course, Niall ruined it by looking up at Bressie very seriously and asking, “so, do you, like, date younger guys?” He left Bressie dumbfounded on the sidewalk, cackling all the way to the front door.

That was the first of many attempts Niall made to get Bressie to… Bressie doesn’t know. Notice him? _Date_ him? Sometimes Bressie wonders if it’s only because Niall knows he’s into guys, if he’s testing the waters.

It would be easier if it was that, Bressie thinks. If Niall wasn’t actually into Bressie, not really.

That might keep Bressie from being into Niall.

“Bressie! Eoghan!” Niall says excitedly, beaming at them both. He’s not drunk, but he sure as shit isn’t sober. “You came! Well, kind of.”

“We had a complaint about the noise level,” Bressie says, in his best cop voice. Niall’s gaze sweeps over him, head to toe. Any desires that are usually guarded by sobriety are plain on his face. Bressie feels weirdly exposed by the way Niall’s looking at him, like he _knows_.

Like he knows how badly Bressie’s fighting his attraction to Niall. Like he knows it’s a goddamn loosing battle.

“We’re leaving you with a warning,” Eoghan says, picking up the script because Bressie’s brain is refusing to cooperate. All his brain wants to focus on is the way water’s trailing down Niall’s pale neck, and that’s not… helpful. “Another complaint and everyone goes home.”

Niall doesn’t bother looking at Eoghan, he’s talking to Bressie when he says, “Sir, yes sir!”

“We’ll behave, we swear,” Louis chimes in, elbowing Niall in the side. Niall finally breaks eye contact to punch Louis in the arm three times. “You won’t hear a peep from us.”

“Niall?” Bressie prompts, wanting his word too. Niall’s already nodding, dimpling at Bressie sweetly.

“We’ll keep it down, Big Face, promise,” he says, ‘x’ing over his heart solemnly. 

“Thanks guys,” Eoghan says. He’s already turning, chuckling under his breath. 

Bressie stays put. Niall’s still looking at him. 

“Go turn it down, Tommo,” Niall says, nudging Louis away. Louis laughs outright and salutes, grinning at Bressie mockingly before he turns. 

“Happy birthday,” Bressie says, for something to say. Eoghan’s waiting for him, he really should go.

“Thanks, Bres,” Niall says, smiling. It’s nighttime, but Bressie swears he feels the goddamn sun. 

This is an issue.

“Did you get me anything?” Niall asks quickly, batting his eyelashes. “Birthday spankings?”

Bressie barks out a loud laugh, face going hot. “No, kiddo, definitely not.”

Niall bites at his lip, pink of his tongue flicking out as he soothes it over. He looks up at Bressie coyly, and Bressie’s knees go a bit watery.

This is a _huge_ issue.

“Birthday kisses?” he asks, voice going quiet. Bressie doesn’t think anyone would have heard Niall anyway, but –

“Christ, no, Niall,” Bressie says, laughing awkwardly. There’s a knot the size of a fist in his chest.

“Shame,” Niall says, with a shrug, looking away. Bressie doesn’t know if he’s imagining the blush on Niall’s cheeks getting darker, or not. There’s no reason for Niall to look so disappointed.

“You _just_ turned 18,” Bressie says, feeling desperate. He doesn’t know how this became his life; bargaining fairness with someone so much younger than him because he doesn’t want to _let Niall down_. 

“Right,” Niall says, shrugging again. A smile twists his lips, but it’s badly forced. 

“Niall…”

“Well, you know where I’m at, if you change your mind,” Niall says, stepping back into the foyer. He seems smaller, suddenly, and Bressie’s stomach sinks so quickly he’s dizzy from it. Niall won’t even look at him. 

There’s no reason to feel like he fucked up, but god, Bressie feels like he fucked up. 

The door slides shut with hardly any noise. Without the music rattling around in Bressie’s brain, all he can hear is how hard his heart is pounding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reblog](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/159030041322/thepainlessmoustache-by-request-of)


	8. Kiss Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 kiss prompts from this week; both non-au and au.

>   **Post Break Up Kiss** -  _The kiss that catches both of you off guard, but says I miss you, I’m sorry and please love me again all at once without any words being spoken._

Bressie doesn’t mean for it to happen.

Seems to be the theme with Niall, if he’s being honest. He didn’t mean for them to shag the first time, didn’t mean to start dating Niall, didn’t mean to fall in love with him either. Didn’t mean for them to starting arguing all the time, both of them too stubborn to let anything go. Didn’t mean to let the distance get between them, push them apart, make everything harder than expected. 

Didn’t mean for it to end the way it did. London, pissing rain, a cliche of a day. Niall knew something was up, spent the whole day careful and far too cheerful. Bressie could only manage tight smiles until Niall shouted at him to get on with it, like he knew what was coming. Then Bressie’s shit line about thinking Niall should focus on touring, and the prideful tilt of Niall’s chin as he told Bressie to go stay in Eoghan’s room.

Now this – skirting around each other all night. They’ve barely seen each other since that night in London, since they broke up. Bressie turned off the notifications for the LIC’s WhatsApp and still hasn’t gotten around to turning it back on. Everyone around them has been so considerate it’s driving Bressie mad, and now this –

He should have known they’d end up here. They were always the last ones awake, sobering up on the patio together, watching the sky. Sometimes they made it until sunrise just chatting shit, sometimes all they did was make it to Niall’s bed. 

Right now Bressie’s looking at the moon alone, but he can hear the gentle strumming of Niall’s guitar right inside the door, sat at the kitchen table with the doors wide open. They’re not far from each other, and the back of Bressie’s neck as been prickling all night in a way that means Niall’s been staring at him. 

His body always knows when Niall’s near. Gets wound up, nervous, waiting to make contact. Achy, hardly able to stand every moment they’re not touching. It’s worse being near him, that’s why Bressie’s been doing his damnedest to avoid Niall, but –

But he should have known he couldn’t. Should have known that he was going to walk into that kitchen so he would have an excuse to say hello. Should have know they wouldn’t even get to the small talk before Niall looked up at him from under his lashes, mouth wobbling dangerously.

“I miss you so much,” he says, voice rough, and that’s all it takes. Five stupid words and Bressie doesn’t have any resolve left. 

Bressie doesn’t mean for it to happen, but he doesn’t think he could stop it from happening, not with the way Niall’s looking at him.  

He pulls Niall in and picks him up easy as anything. Their mouths meet quick, even as Niall gets his legs wrapped around Bressie’s hips and hands on his shoulders, clinging to his shirt.

Bressie holds Niall close, one arm around his slim waist and the other around the back of his neck, keeping him in place as they kiss. It’s sharp and sweet, making Bressie’s belly swoop like nothing else can. It’s perfect, the way kissing Niall always is. 

 

 

> **Hesitant Kiss** -  _The type of kiss where their lips brush against each other’s a few times, breath fanning across each other’s faces as one waits for the other to make a move._

“Are you shaking?” Bressie asks, laughing roughly. 

There is a slight tremor to Niall’s hands where they’re resting against Bressie’s chest. He looks at them for a moment – pale against the dark blue of Bressie’s shirt, nails bitten down – then looks back up at Bressie, shrugging. 

“Guess so,” he admits, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. Bressie chuckles again, readjusting his grip on Niall’s hips. His hand is hot through the thin fabric of Niall’s t-shirt, his thick thighs putting a stretch in Niall’s legs as he straddles them. Bressie smells like faded cologne and beer, and he’s stupidly handsome smirking at Niall the way he is.

“Don’t be nervous,” he coos, condescending enough that Niall smacks his shoulder and glares. Bressie laughs, rubs his hands up and down Niall’s sides. “S’just me, little one.”

“That’s the _issue_ ,” Niall says grumpily.

“Don’t have to do it,” Bressie says, mock-offended, “Could find you a nice lass to snog. Doubt you’d having any trouble with a face like that.”

Niall flushes hotly, fidgeting at the compliment. “S’fine,” he says quietly, looking at his hands again. He’s been absently petting over the soft cotton of Bressie’s shirt, thumb rubbing the ridge of Bressie’s sternum. There hasn’t been so much as a twitch in response, Niall wonders if Bressie even noticed. “Bloke, bird, doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, then what’s the issue, chief?” Bressie asks, knuckles knocking under Niall’s chin so Niall will look at him. There’s probably a hectic flush to Niall’s cheeks. A bit of pink stains Bressie’s own cheeks, but that’s probably from the beer more than anything. 

Niall, on the other hand, is blushing because he’s had this exact fantasy – sat on Bressie’s lap, Bressie’s hands on him. That’s the issue here, really, but like  _hell_  is he going to tell Bressie that.

“Nothing,” Niall says. “Nervous.”

“Might as well pull the plaster, then,” Bressie says, with a grin. One of his hand moves up between Niall’s shoulder blades, applying pressure until Niall tips closer. 

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, squeezing his eyes shut as Bressie starts to lean forward.

He feels Bressie’s lips brush his, more of a whisper than anything, but he still inhales sharply, waiting for it. Then, a soft graze of Bressie’s mouth. Niall wiggles impatiently, whispers _c’mon_ between them, a quiet plead.

There’s another laugh from Bressie before the hand between Niall’s shoulders pushes, and the hand on Niall’s hip tightens, and then they’re kissing properly – Bressie’s lips warm and smooth as he presses them to Niall’s. 

Niall really… has no idea what to do – 22 and never fuckin’ been kissed – so he lets Bressie take the lead, slides a hand up Bressie’s neck until he can feel Bressie’s pulse fluttering under his thumb. 

He gasps out loud when Bressie licks against his bottom lip, jaw going loose enough for Bressie to deepen the kiss properly. It’s probably sloppy on Niall’s part as he kisses back enthusiastically, but Bressie isn’t pushing him away so god knows, Niall isn’t stopping anytime soon.

 

 

> **Distracting Kiss** -  _When you are competing, maybe playing video games or something so you press kisses anywhere available; arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, temple, just anywhere to distract them._

“This is what you get for assuming,” Niall says, as the tiny plastic ball rolls merrily down the course, following the exact path it’s supposed to take. He watches it go, bouncing off the bumpers and leaping over hills before dropping into the funnel at the end. The funnel leads to a tunnel that delivers the ball neatly into the hole at the end. 

“Another hole in one,” Niall says with a grin.

“How was I supposed to know you were amazing at mini-golf?” Bressie asks, heaving a great big sign. “You didn’t tell me you golfed.”

“I don’t think mini-golf takes that kind of skill,” Niall says. “It’s more of settin’ it on the right path and letting it go.”

“Deeply profound,” Bressie says flatly, hopping down onto the lower level of the course they’re on. His ball is wedged up against the wall, so he has to stand on the ledge surrounding the green to position his club correctly.

It’s a sight to see, Bressie bent nearly in two because the golf clubs are so small and he’s so very massive. 

“Woulda taken you golfing for real,” he says, flexes his forearms the smallest amount. The ball still shoots off like he smacked it real good, bouncing wildly off the sides and missing the funnel completely. It follows the longer course before it skips right over the hole. “ _Fuck_!”

“Language,” Niall chides. “There are children here.” Bressie flips him off before dropping down onto the green next to his ball. He doesn’t bother swinging, just uses the flat of his putter to put it into the hole. Niall claps to show his support. 

“Are you any good at actual golf?” Niall asks, once they’re at the next course. 

This one’s a little more complicated. He has to time his stroke with the windmill lazily turning in front of the small opening that leads the ball to a hole in one. If his ball bounces off the flat, wooden blades, or goes into a different opening, he’ll get a birdie at best. 

Which he doesn’t want. Since he’s gotten aces up to this point.

“Uhm, yes,” Bressie says, hovering close as Niall positions his ball where he wants, eyeing the angle. 

“Don’t mess me up,” Niall mutters, once Bressie doesn’t move away. 

“I won’t,” Bressie says lightly. 

Niall doesn’t believe him so he takes some practice swings to see if Bressie’s going to try and move. He doesn’t. Still suspicious, Niall draws back to actually hit it, ignoring Bressie in favor of timing the shot with the windmill blades.

He forgets to be vigilant when he takes his swing – Bressie leans over and kisses him on the cheek, warm and sweet and lingering. It startles Niall so badly, he puts too much power behind the shot.

The ball bounces straight off the blade with enough force to come right back up the hill to his foot. Niall turn to Bressie with a glare, cheeks scorching hot. Bressie grins at him, somehow managing to look both very smug and very fond.

“I demand a reshoot,” Niall says, stomach fluttering. 

“Your face is really red,” Bressie replies, and Niall hits him in the shin with his putter.

 

 

>  **Unbreakable Kiss -** _The type of kiss that really shouldn’t be happening, it’s a mistake, but you just can’t find yourself able to pull away._

That saying: ‘ _you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone_ ’? Niall’s a walking, talking, breathing example of that.

He’s never thought of himself as selfish. He’s always been easy going, giving as good as he got. He never had a problem letting things go – possessions, opportunities, _people_. Put a lot of trust in the universe to steer him in the right direction – pun intended – but right now… 

This is possibly the most selfish thing he’s done in years, and Niall wishes he could blame someone other than himself. Something other than this corrosive jealousy that’s been at his heels every day this week, but it’s on him. 

The thing is, he’s been spoiled. After Bressie and Roz split, Niall got all Bressie’s attention. All of it. Every look, every touch, every drunk text message. 

He got Bressie in the middle of day, barefoot in the kitchen making lunch. Afternoons full of absent guitar playing and beers and Bressie’s big laugh filling up his sitting room. He got Bressie in his bed at 2am, sweaty and grinning and still wanting more and more of Niall, anything he could take. 

Now he’s watching someone else get all those parts and pieces of Bressie, and he hates it. Hates not being able to lean into Bressie, hates not being able to touch Bressie the way he wants all because Bressie has a boyfriend. 

A boyfriend. A real boyfriend. Not a fuck buddy, not whatever he and Niall were. A boyfriend he’s been seeing for nearly six months, a boyfriend he moved back to London for. 

Niall didn’t think it would hurt like this. He didn’t think it would hurt at all, but it hurts right underneath his rib cage, makes him ache all over – and here he is, clinging to Bressie, stretched up on his toes so he can press their lips together.

It’s rough and off center, and everything Niall needs – heart pounding so hard in his chest he can barely hear over the thundering of his pulse. Bressie’s hands tight around his arms, but he’s not pushing Niall away – he’s pulling Niall in so their bodies are flush, kissing him back for so, so long –

“Don’t,” Bressie says, finally pushing Niall away, voice rough. The look on his face is more miserable than Niall thinks he’s ever seen it, and he’s seen some miserable fuckin’ looks.  

Niall feels sick to his stomach.

“You don’t get to do that,” Bressie says, stepping away from Niall. His face is that forced kind of emotionless that Niall hates, watching Niall carefully like Niall’s going to throw a strop because his best friend won’t kiss him whilst spoken for. 

Niall takes a moment to get his voice to work; eyes tight and hot, cheeks flushed with guilt. There’s a hollow space in his chest where his heart should probably be. He didn’t think it would hurt like this. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly. 

They both know he’s lying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog: [Post Break Up](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/161048411057/8-4-3-or-1) | [Hesitant](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/161049273807/3-hesitant-kiss-for-nessie-ofc) | [Distracting](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/161070179487/9-for-the-kisses-if-youre-still-up-for-it) | [Unbreakable](https://bressieniall.tumblr.com/post/161080079887/are-you-still-taking-kiss-prompts-in-the-moment)


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